


Mister & Mister Agent Agent

by agentstefano



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Federal Agents, Clint Needs a Hug, Criminal!Clint, Fury's trench coat, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I REGRET NOTHING, M/M, Minor Violence, POV Outsider, Secret Marriage, basically fluff, but gay, its not sad I promise, super inaccurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7755823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentstefano/pseuds/agentstefano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is a criminal and Coulson is the FBI agent chasing him. They're also married. The techie assigned to Coulson is really confused because they keep flirting???<br/>It's cute and gay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mister & Mister Agent Agent

At seven, Amelia Castillo wanted to be an astronaut. At twelve, she was convinced interior design was her calling. At fourteen, she started learning programming languages as a side project because she was bored in school. At sixteen, she successfully hacked into a secure government server, an exploit that piqued the interest of the authorities and almost gave her mother an aneurism. By twenty-four, she only hacked what the director of the FBI (her boss) told her to...Mostly. She had a steady job, reasonable pay, and she got to say, “That’s classified,” whenever anyone asked her what she did. She loved it.

She rarely got to do anything actually exciting, though, so when a red light started blinking on her computer screen, she dropped her _chow mein_ container in her scramble to see what it was.

“Oh. _Oh. Oh my God.”_ She had to find the Director.

…

“Sir! Director Fury, sir, I found…I need to talk to you,” Amy gasped, out of breath from her sprint up three flights of stairs. Director Fury turned his one menacing eye on her from where he had been discussing something with Agent Hill. She gulped. “I’ve located Clint Barton, sir.”

“In my office, now.” He waved off Agent Hill and turned towards his office with a swish of his leather trench coat.

 _Does he do that on purpose,_ Amy wondered, _or was he just born that dramatic?_

…

Amy fidgeted in her chair, still not sure that this really warranted an _entire conference room_. There was a knock on the door and then a slightly balding man in a black suit stepped into the room.

"Agent Coulson, this is Amelia Castillo, tech division. Miss Castillo, please tell Coulson what you told me." Director Fury motioned to her like he expected her to do a trick or something. Not quite sure what to do, Amy stood up and opened the folder she’d brought with her.

"You—you want me to brief him, sir? Like, actually _brief_ someone? Okay, right.” Amy took a deep breath to calm her nerves. This was fine. She was a professional and damn good at her job. She could do this. She turned to Agent Coulson. “Facial recognition picked up Clint Barton on a security camera outside a hotel in Lisbon. I believe he checked in under the alias Bartholomew Élysée.”

Agent Coulson made a sound like he was choking, but quickly regained his composure. “Go on,” he said, like nothing had happened.

“Right. Well, I went to the Director as soon as I found him, so I didn’t look too deeply into why he might be in Lisbon. Not that I won’t find out. Because I will! I just—Anyway, just from what I could find on my phone in the last ten minutes, which was actually quite a lot, I mean—”

“Miss Castillo, the point, if you would.”

“Yes, Director. There is an American diplomat, Katarina Wilkins, staying at the same hotel for the next two days. She has made a lot of enemies during her career, plus there was that whole scandal a while back. I mean, she fits the type that Barton usually goes after. To kill. Not to, like…uh…” She trailed off. Public speaking was not her strong point. She wanted to go back to her computer and her _chow mein_ and hide. She doubted Fury would let her. He was probably going to fire her for her terrible briefing skills. Oh God.

Thankfully, Fury took over from there. “Miss Castillo will be your tech support—” Amy scoffed. She was hardly _tech support_. She wasn’t someone you called about your computer, unless it had vital government secrets on it. “—for this mission,” Fury continued, completely ignoring her. “The both of you will fly to Lisbon tonight and apprehend Barton, preferably before he kills Wilkins. I trust that you will be able to do what’s necessary, should the need arise.”

“I will do what is necessary to apprehend him, as always.”

“And yet he always evades capture.” The Director’s stare was harsh, but Agent Coulson looked as calm as ever.

“Sir, you are the one who continually assigns me to this case. If you doubt my abilities, please, say something. Otherwise, I will continue doing my job.”

Amy looked back and forth between them, sure she was missing something important. Finally, Fury said, without breaking eye contact, “Miss Castillo, please show Agent Coulson to his gear for this mission. The latest from Stark.” He left with another swish of his coat.

“Um…follow me?” _Damnit, Castillo. Stop making everything a question. You sound like an idiot._

...

The latest from Stark was a technological mask that morphed the face into whomever you wanted. The only person to use it so far had been Agent Romanoff, and her flawless impersonation had left half the staff terrified that everyone they talked to was secretly her.

“He won’t fall for this,” said Agent Coulson as he inspected his new face.

“Of course he will. This is _Stark Tech_ we’re talking about.”

“That won’t matter, trust me.”

…

In the few hours before their flight, Amy researched the case so that she would be completely informed for her first assignment as a handler.

“Soooooo Ashton…” Amy leaned over the wall separating their cubicles. “You’ve been here for years, right? What’s up with Coulson and the Barton case?”

“Well,” said Ashton, trying to appear uninterested in the department gossip and failing spectacularly, “Coulson caught him like eight years ago and tried to recruit him. Barton said yes, then escaped and went off the grid for a while. Fury was, well, _furious_.” Ashton laughed at his own joke. “Now he’s mostly a mercenary, sometimes he’s a spy. He was an art thief, too, I think. Once or twice.”

“Yeah, but it seemed like more than that. Like, Fury was doubting Coulson’s Super Secret Agent Skills or something.”

“Coulson’s been trying to catch him for eight years and failing. And he’s our top agent. Plus, the way they act…well, you’ll see. But it makes you wonder why Fury hasn’t pulled him from the case.”

“Huh.”

“Can I go back to work now? I do have a job, too, you know.”

…

Amy was alone in one of the supply rooms off the tech division, double-checking she had all her equipment. She’d been in there maybe five minutes when Agent Romanoff dropped in. From the _ceiling_. The door was literally _right_ there. Seriously, _spies_.

“You’re on the Barton case now.”

“Uh…yeah. Did you need something?”

“Nope.” Okay, the staring thing she was doing was getting a little creepy.

“Hey, you’ve worked with Coulson a lot, right?”

Agent Romanoff raised an eyebrow. “Now and again. Why?”

“I was just—It’s just that—I’ve been wondering, why does Fury keep Agent Coulson on the case if he’s failed to catch Barton so many times?”

“I’m telling you because I think, as his handler, you shouldn’t be doubting him. Not because you asked. Coulson knows more about Barton than anyone. How he works. How he thinks. He’s the only reason we even get close to catching Barton. Plus, Coulson would kill Fury if he didn’t.”

“But—” _Aaaaand_ Amy was talking to an empty room. Seriously, _how?_

…

The flight was dull. Coulson mostly ignored her. She wanted to ask about Barton, and maybe what Coulson’s reaction to his alias was all about, but he probably wouldn’t tell her anything and she didn’t want him to kill her for prying. She never knew, with spies. He may have looked like an accountant and spent the entire flight playing crossword, but he could also probably kill her with his eyebrows. She sighed and slid down in her seat as far as she could go. She needed coffee.

…

Amy had her own hotel room with all of her surveillance equipment set up around her. The bed was heaven and the bathtub was enormous, but she doubted she’d have any time to enjoy it. She was working, after all.

Through the tiny microphone and camera concealed in his tie, Amy watched as Coulson surveyed the hotel from his position at the mostly deserted bar. Coulson was leaning on the counter, looking for Barton or Wilkins, when a voice from behind him said, “I didn’t expect to see you here, but I’d recognize that ass anywhere.”

Amy almost spit out her coffee.

Coulson turned around, and Amy saw Clint Barton standing there, a playful smile on his lips.

“I told them you wouldn’t fall for it, but Fury insisted,” Coulson said, gesturing at his face. He glanced around the empty bar and then removed the mask. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“That’s sweet, but no. After Moscow, I know better than to accept a drink from you.”

Coulson shrugged. “Worth a try.”

Barton signaled to the bartender and said, in passable Portuguese, “Posso ter um copo de bourbon, por favor?” The bartender nodded and poured him a glass of bourbon.

“I didn’t know you spoke Portuguese.”

“I learned the important phrases, at least. Você parece arrojado esta noite, querida.” Barton winked.

At this point, Amy was a little confused, because Portuguese was pretty close to Spanish, and it sounded like Barton had just said that Coulson looked _dashing_ and then called him _darling_. She wondered if this was what Ashton meant. They definitely didn’t sound like enemies. It was almost like—No, it couldn’t be. Coulson was too professional.

“Do you like the name I picked: Bart Élysée? I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Coulson looked over at him and Barton had a genuine smile on his face.

“I do.”

“I always love it when you say those words.”

“How about these words: Turn yourself in. I’m sure if you ask nicely Fury will let you stream _Supernanny_ to your cell.”

Barton gasped. “Have you been watching it without me?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Will I get conjugal visits too?”

“I’m sure we could work something out.”

What the hell was going on? Coulson was definitely _flirting with a wanted criminal._

“That’s a tempting offer, being your kept man, but I’m going to have to decline. I hope you understand,” said Barton with an overly apologetic expression on his face.

“You know we’ll keep finding you, and we _will_ catch you.”

“Aw, honey, you know you’ll always be able to find me right here,” Barton cooed, patting Coulson’s chest, right over his heart. Coulson just stared at him.

Barton sighed. “I suppose you plan on trying to stop me?”

Coulson nodded and said, “You don’t have to do this, Clint. You can make a deal with the Bureau, minimum jail time. Just give up a few of your employers and use all that talent for good. We could use you, Clint. I recruited you once, let me do it again.”

“’For good?’ Seriously, that shit again? You’ve killed more people than I have!”

“Those people deserved it. You’re killing people for money.”

“And you’re _not_ getting paid?”

Even though Amy was still completely lost, she could tell this was not the first time they’d had this argument.

“Look, Phil. I’ve been tailing Wilkins for days and if anyone deserves an arrow up their ass, it’s her. She’s a horrible person and definitely up to some shady shit.”

“So let the Bureau handle her,” Coulson said.

“Like they _handled_ Pierce? And Laufeyson?” Barton pushed himself away from the bar and glared.

“This is different and you know it.”

“No, it’s fucking _not_. If you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.”

“You know I can’t let you do that,” Coulson called to Barton’s retreating back.

“Try and stop me, then.”

Coulson swore, paid for his drink—and Barton’s—and then walked towards the hallway where Barton had disappeared. He stopped at the elevators.

“Amelia?”

“Fourth floor, room 412. It’s on your left.”

…

As Coulson stepped out of the elevator he was grabbed and slammed into the wall by Barton. Or at least, Amy assumed it was him. The camera was a little squished.

“Hi,” Barton said, and kissed Coulson. Amy did spit out her coffee this time. Maybe this was a honey trap mission and she didn’t realize it? That explained the flirting. Was Coulson kissing back? She couldn’t tell.

Then Barton stepped back and Coulson started to slump over, and _no no no NO!_

 _Stupid sedative lipstick,_ Amy thought. _Why do bad guys always go for the sedative lipstick?_

“Coulson! COULSON! Wake up!” It was no use though, as Coulson had already lost consciousness. Barton bent down and hoisted Coulson over his shoulder.

…

Amy had alerted Fury that Barton had Coulson, but he seemed neither worried nor surprised. He told her to stay put because Barton was a trained assassin and Amy was, well, a squishy techie with limited self-defense training and no weapon. She was paraphrasing. He said to watch Barton and keep him updated. That left her with nothing to do but watch from the camera as her first charge as handler was tied up by an assassin. She couldn’t see much of the room, or what Barton had used to restrain Coulson. At least he wasn’t dead.

Barton came back into view with a bow in his hand, a quiver on his back, and three knives that she could see on his person. He walked over to Coulson and took the comm out of his ear, putting it in his own.

“Hey, Techie.”

“Barton? What did you do to Agent Coulson?”

“How old are you, twelve?”

Amy bristled. "I'm 24," she snapped.

"Wow, now I feel old. Anyways, Phil's fine. He'll wake up in a few minutes and untie himself in time to see my daring escape." He bent down and pulled the camera off of Coulson’s tie, then pointed it at him so that Amy could see him bound in purple silk rope. "I considered fuzzy handcuffs, but he can get out of them too fast. Trust me, I know."

"Wha—"

"Anyway, nice meeting you. Sorry about the equipment." Before Amy could say anything else, Barton crushed the comm, microphone, and camera, leaving her staring at a blank screen. _Shit._ She really hoped Coulson remembered the backup comm.

…

Amy hacked into the hotel security cameras and watched as Barton checked Wilkins’ room and then made his way down to the lobby. Empty. There wasn’t even a receptionist at the front desk. Barton searched the rest of the floor and then stopped outside of a reception hall that looked like it doubled as a ballroom. Amy switched to a camera inside the room. Wilkins was talking with some guy in the middle of the polished wood floor. On either side of them was a group of big men with guns. Something was definitely going down. Amy switched back to the camera in the hallway. _Where the hell was Barton?_

There was a balcony running along one wall of the room and Amy thought she saw movement. Just then, the man said something Wilkins didn’t like and she stepped forwards, probably to threaten him. If she had stayed where she was a second longer, she would have been dead. As it was, the arrow missed her and hit one of the bodyguards standing behind her in the neck.

For a moment, everyone froze, even Amy, as the man fell to the ground and choked on his own blood, then all hell broke loose. One of Wilkins’ men shot round after round at the balcony. The rest turned on the other group. Soon it was an all-out firefight.

Just as Amy was about to alert Fury, the comm in her ear whined and crackled, and Coulson said, “Amelia? What’s going on? I hear gunshots. Where’s Clint?” He sounded groggy, but he must have gotten out of his restraints to get the backup comm from the sole of his shoe.

“Coulson, you’re awake! You have to get to the ballroom! Wilkins’ had some shady-ass meeting and then Barton tried to kill her and now everyone is shooting at each other and I don’t know where Barton is and you have to hurry!”

Coulson didn’t say anything else but she could here him breathing heavily as he ran.

By the time Coulson got to the ballroom all of the shooters had either fled or died. There was no sign of Wilkins, but the man she’d been talking to was dead.

“Coulson, I last saw Barton on the balcony.” He was sprinting for the stairs before she finished speaking.

“Clint? Clint! No, no, no, Clint you have to be okay…” Coulson kept whispering to Barton as Amy called for an ambulance, feeling like an intruder by listening in. There was _definitely_ something going on.

…

They took Barton to the closest hospital. Single gunshot wound to the side, went right through. Nicked a couple organs. He passed out from blood loss, but the medics said he should recover. Thankfully, they spoke English, because Coulson wasn’t up for translating. He rode with Barton in the ambulance and tried to follow him once they got into the hospital. He looked upset and frantic and not at all like the unflappable man she was used to.

Amy hung back, watching as a nurse stepped in front of Coulson. “Sir, he is in critical condition. Only his family will be allowed to see him.”

“Special Agent Phil Coulson,” he said, holding up his FBI badge, “He’s wanted by the FBI, so let me through.”

He went to walk past her, but she blocked him, unintimidated. “Sir, that badge will do very little here. It is family only, that is the rule.”

Coulson looked over her shoulder to where Barton was being rushed through a pair of double doors and cursed.

            He pulled a chain out from under his shirt. On it was a gold wedding band.

            “He is my _husband_ , now _let me through the damn door_.” He didn’t wait for her answer.

            Amy stood there, shocked. There was no way Agent Coulson was married to a wanted criminal…right? He’d just lied to get past the nurse.

“Uh, nurse?”

“Yes?” The nurse said, still looking at where Coulson had gone.

“Can I, uh, borrow a computer?”

…

Barton woke up early the next morning. Amy had hacked into Coulson’s file, only to find that his marital status was redacted and even she couldn’t get to it. Fucking _Fury_ and his Stark-designed firewalls.

After the doctors checked his vitals and made sure he wasn’t dying (Amy wasn’t really sure what they did, to be honest, but she was jetlagged as hell and didn’t really care), Amy went into Barton’s room and saw him handcuffed to a bed by the window, looking completely out of it. Coulson sat in the visitor’s chair next to him, holding his hand. He looked exhausted.

Barton looked over at her and grinned, wide and goofy. He tried to poke Coulson, but couldn’t reach with the handcuffs and waved instead. “Phil Phil Phil Phil!!! Is that…is that your techie? She’s so small! Like a lil’ baby kitty.”

“Ah, yes. Clint, this is Amelia. Amelia, Clint Barton.” Phil looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“You didn’ even say the best part! This is Phil, he’s really handsome bu’ you don’t get him, ‘kay? You don’t get ‘im ‘cause he’s mine. See,” he said, pointing at the ring still visible around Coulson’s neck, “He’s my hubby and I’m jus’…I’m jus’ really lucky ‘cause I get to have him, even if he tries to arrest me sometimes.”

“So, it’s true, then? You’re actually married.” Amy was stuck between shock at the discovery that Coulson was married to a criminal and laughter at how high Barton—Clint—was.

“Yeah,” Clint sighed dreamily.

Coulson looked fondly at him and then said to Amy, “We are. Very few people know, and we would like to keep it that way.” He gave her a pointed look.

“But Fury knows, right? That’s why he like, didn’t trust you and shit?”

“Of course Fury knows. He officiated it.”

“He _what_?”

“He was soooo serious an’ all frowny,” Clint added, trying to imitate Fury’s expression and failing. She doubted Fury had giggled that much.

“Agent Romanoff acted as witness—”

“AND BOTH BEST MEN!!!” Clint yelled over him.

“That too.”

Maybe Amy was the one high on pain medication and she was actually hallucinating. She tried to subtly pinch her arm. _Ow_. Did that work with hallucinations?

She tried to imagine the wedding. Did Fury make Clint wear handcuffs? Did _Coulson?_ Wait, Clint mentioned fuzzy handcuffs…Oh no. Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts.

“So, uh, how long has this, uh…” She waved at them vaguely.

“We’ve been together for seven years,” Coulson said, “Married for five.”

Amy thought he might say more, but just then the nurse from earlier poked her head into the room and told them that Clint needed his rest.

Amy walked to the door and paused, remembering something. “Coulson, what was so special about his alias?”

Coulson squeezed Clint’s hand, a small smile on his face. “Hotel Élysée. It was where we spent our honeymoon.”

That was…actually really sweet. Amy left the room, but not before she heard Clint say, “You know I’ll escape, right? An’ you’ll have to chase me again.”

“Always, darling, now go to sleep.”

…

Katarina Wilkins was arrested for selling state secrets to terrorists (what she’d been trying to do in Lisbon).

…

Agent Romanoff stared at Amy in a vaguely threatening way until she signed the non-disclosure agreement. If asked, Phillip Coulson had no relationship with Clinton Barton, other than as the man tasked with apprehending him, should he escape again (and he would). To say or suggest otherwise would result in direct and immediate action from the FBI. She didn’t want to know what that meant.

Amy still didn’t really understand how they handled marriage as agent and criminal, but no relationship was perfect.

And if she managed to convince Agent Romanoff to give her their wedding date so she could send Coulson a card for their anniversary, well…she couldn’t say anything about that, either.

**Author's Note:**

> Everything is probably really inaccurate but who even cares? not me or my many gay sons. Also feedback would be great.


End file.
